


Crawl

by Bunney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunney/pseuds/Bunney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daphne is the prettiest girl at Hogwarts and she finds that beauty can't buy everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crawl

Daphne Greengrass, of Slytherin House, was a very spoiled young woman. The summer between sixth and seventh year had been kind, exceptionally kind, to her and she was abundantly aware that not only was she the prettiest girl in seventh year, but quite possibly the most beautiful witch at Hogwarts. When she'd appeared on Platform 9 ¾, at the beginning of fall term, she'd turned heads with her blonde curls and newfound curves. All heads but for one and that, of course, was the one she wanted most of all.

Unlike Daphne, who owed a rich grandmother and a month at an exclusive spa in Hungary for her transformation, Draco Malfoy owed obscene wealth and an arrogance that transcended looks for the heads that turned his direction. He was not handsome; that gift belonged to the likes of Ernie MacMillan, who'd lost his pudgy middle and sallow skin for six more inches of height and a Barcelona tan. Draco's features were too pale, too pointed, and to be perfectly frank, far too cruel to be considered attractive. He did possess a pair of extraordinary gray eyes, however, and a thick head of sleek platinum hair that saved him from being just plain _ordinary_ and blessed him with epithets that ranged from _striking_ to _dynamic_ to _sexy_. Surely, Draco Malfoy turned heads. For all the wrong reasons.

Naturally Daphne, being the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts, felt that her arm should be graced by the handsomest man at Hogwarts, but after being cornered in the seventh year girl's loo by a hissing, jealous Pansy Parkinson, she gave up on Ernie Macmillan and set her sights on Draco Malfoy. She traded _handsome_ for _powerful_ and really, they were one and the same, weren't they?

At first, all went according to plan. While Draco might've been powerful and wealthy, he was still seventeen and a seventeen year old with a healthy libido. He returned from breakfast one Sunday morning at the beginning of term to find Daphne spread delectably atop his sheets, clad only in his spare Quidditch robe and a come-hither smile. With a smirk to cover his surprise, he did what any young man with a healthy libido would do: he shagged her rotten.

Daphne left his room later that afternoon, sore and sticky and happy. Draco Malfoy was hers.

For a day.

Despite all of Daphne's spectacular looks, she wasn't the brightest witch at Hogwarts. That appellation belonged, of course, to Gryffindor's reigning princess, Hermione Granger. Daphne counted on her looks and her sexual skills – also a gift from her practical grandmother and one of the spa's pool attendants – to capture the elusive Malfoy. She made the critical mistake that many young witches make when they seek out a mate – believing that beauty and sex were enough to hold onto a wizard. 

So, the next morning as Draco calmly read the morning's _Daily Prophet_ and ate his bacon and porridge, Daphne squeezed between him and Crabbe, linking her arm through his and knocking over his pumpkin juice. Draco grimaced as Blaise Zabini vanished the spreading orange mess and extricated his arm from her possessive grasp. "Daphne. Clumsy this morning, are we?" he drawled, nudging Goyle so the bigger boy would give him some room.

Daphne blushed crimson at his callous tone, but was undeterred. Really, Draco spoke to everyone like that, so what made her special? She missed the sly look that passed between Zabini and Draco, missed the jealous glares the other Slytherin girls sent her direction, and she missed the longing disappointment in the Gryffindor princess's eyes as she watched them from across the Great Hall. Giving up on tucking her arm through Draco's, Daphne contented herself with adhering herself to his side until he nearly pushed Goyle off the end of the bench in an effort to escape. Daphne, in her self-absorption, saw none of this. 

She was Draco's girlfriend.

*****

"You're pathetic, Greengrass." 

"You're just a jealous cow, Parkinson," Daphne said snootily. She carefully stirred her potion as it swirled and bubbled and turned a brilliant shade of chartreuse. "You're just angry that I have the best boyfriend in school."

Pansy laughed and the sound hurt Daphne more than she thought it should. "Is that what you think you have? You should let Draco know. He thinks he's just picked up a particularly revolting stray."

Daphne blinked hard so that the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes wouldn't smear her mascara. "Draco cares about me."

"Draco shagged you because you were stupid enough to spread your legs for him," Pansy hissed as Professor Snape sent them a warning glance, then turned away to take points off Gryffindor for doing the very same thing they were. "You don't have Draco, you slag. His heart belongs to another."

Nausea cramped Daphne's stomach and she turned away from the pungent steam rising from her cauldron. She hated that Pansy could see her weaknesses and thought nothing of exploiting them. "W-what are you on about? Draco's mine!" she whispered, swallowing hard. Pansy's smirk was nasty.

"Hardly. Why don't you bother opening your eyes, Greengrass? Open your eyes and you'll _see_."

Daphne blindly stirred her potion, until she stirred it too much and Professor Snape had to vanish the destroyed results from her cauldron and give her zero marks for the day's class. She skipped lunch and locked herself in the loo, crying until she made herself sick.

*****

After that, Daphne did open her eyes and what she saw horrified her.

Draco's attentions weren't hers after all. Oh, he spoke to her and occasionally let her hold his sleeve, but his _attention_ was on the one witch who would never have him. The one witch who was forbidden to him. 

Daphne had never given much thought to the girls of Gryffindor House. None, save for perhaps Parvati Patil, were as beautiful as she, therefore she perceived no threat from them. Besides, Draco _hated_ Gryffindors, didn't he? Then why, _why_ , was he spending all his time watching Hermione Granger?

She told herself it was to uncover their weaknesses. Or maybe he wasn't staring at Granger at all. It may have been Potter or even Weasley, but then how would that explain Ancient Runes? Potter and Weasley didn't take that class, but Granger did. And Draco stared at her with sullen eyes, until she'd feel the burn of them against her bushy head and fling annoyed glares his direction. His mood always improved then, once he'd acquired the Mudblood's attention and he'd smirk and toss his blond hair, but Daphne could see the shy pleasure lurking behind the bravado.

She noticed them in Care of Magical Creatures. Draco would lead their group behind the Gryffindors where he would call out to Potter and Weasley and Granger until they would whisper angrily to themselves and Granger would send looks of loathing towards him. That would put Draco in a good mood the rest of the night, as if he were feeding off Granger's hate. Thriving on it. It pinkened his cheeks and sparkled in his eyes and Daphne had never found him more appealing.

But, he refused to take her back to his bed.

*****

Daphne turned her growing fury onto Hermione Granger, who looked at her with haughty disinterest, despite the venom she flung at the Gryffindor. An endless stream of insults – _ugly, know-it-all, Mudblood whore_ – dripped from Daphne's lips until even Millicent Bulstrode, who had no great love of Hermione Granger, told her to _give it a rest_. Daphne's rage boiled over until even her own House gave her a wide berth and Draco told her in no uncertain terms that she was a nutter if she thought he'd ever want anything to do with her again. She cried until she seemed perpetually swollen and red. She barely ate and never slept. Grades that already hovered near the bottom of the class plummeted the rest of the way. Her celebrated looks suffered and vanished, followed by the few friends who stuck by her and her rising paranoia.

Late at night, as she listened to the muffled whispers and malice-filled giggles of her dormmates, Daphne plotted. If she couldn't have Draco, she'd be damned if anyone else and especially that _Mudblood_ would have him either.

*****

The day that Hermione Granger returned Draco's affection was the day that Daphne decided to kill her. The spark of idea came to her in Potions, when Granger walked into the storeroom, followed moments later by Draco. They both came out, flushed and mussed and giddy, and Daphne had to bite back a howl of fury. Potter gave Granger a look of faint disgust, to which she merrily ruffled his hair and looked at Draco over her shoulder, her lips curving in a teasing smile. Those smiles never failed to erase the morose scowl from Draco's eyes and he'd smile back, years and decades and _centuries_ of pureblood supremacy falling away from his face.

After class, he took Granger's hand and held it lightly in his own, not realizing that he'd just signed his own death warrant.

*****

Daphne was impatient and impatience would be her downfall. It was Christmas and despite her parents' firm orders to return home for the holidays, as soon as she discovered Draco's and Hermione's plans to stay at Hogwarts, she owled her mother and told her she'd see her at Easter instead. Draco looked at her with suspicion when she arrived at breakfast the morning after the Hogwarts Express left for London, but said nothing. Instead, he picked up his toast and pumpkin juice and walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down between Granger and the Weasley girl, leaving Daphne to sit by herself with only a handful of third-year Slytherins to leer at her.

She wondered why Potter and Weasley had accepted Granger's choice of beau. There was no love lost among them and Draco's ease with the Gryffindors spoke of some kind of shared history, some nameless past event that had drawn them together despite years of bitter enmity. Something had drawn Draco to Hermione and Hermione to Draco, but Daphne found she didn't really care _why_ they loved, only that they _did_. They would be gone soon and one day be nothing more than a footnote in some future volume of _Hogwarts, A History_. 

Pansy and Millicent had gone home for the holidays, leaving only Tracey Davis to share the dorm with Daphne, but Tracey was dating Terry Boot and was never around. Daphne found she hated the solitude; her overactive imagination was filled with visions of Draco and his Gryffindor whore. The tender touches, the stolen kisses...she knew that they had moved beyond that, beyond chaste romance. She'd _seen_ the knowledge in Granger's eyes, the knowledge that Daphne had learned beneath a sweaty, heaving pool attendant. That should've been hers, Daphne would rage in the privacy of her room, that gentle induction into sex that Granger had so obviously enjoyed. 

Draco hadn't treated _her_ like that; no, he'd opened his trousers and shoved inside her with little regard for her pleasure. She'd not deserved it! To be treated like a whore. A whore who spread her legs for... Pansy's words came back to her then and shame burned hot on her cheeks. But, wasn't that what she'd done? No, she'd _loved_ Draco. She was perfect for him and he'd been too infatuated with Potter's Mudblood to see that.

He'd be sorry, of course. The decision to kill Granger first was cemented in her mind. He'd see what his decision cost him.

*****

Hermione Granger was Head Girl and Daphne gave seven Galleons, the last of her monthly allowance, to one of the fifth-year Hufflepuff prefects for a copy of the patrol schedule. She could see the indecisiveness lurking in his eyes, so she added the threat of an Unforgivable Curse to the payment. She hadn't a clue how to perform a Cruciatus or an Imperius Curse, having paid little attention in Defense against the Dark Arts, but he didn't know that and he scurried away to do her bidding.

The Head Boy, Anthony Goldstein, had gone home for the holidays and Granger, in her infinite lack of wisdom, had failed to replace him as her patrolling partner. No doubt so she could spend quality and uninterrupted time with her new paramour. Daphne's lip curled as she stared down at Granger's delicate, looping script. _9:00 to Midnight, full castle sweep_. Tucking the list in her pocket, Daphne smiled. It would be easy enough to wait for them in the darkest recesses of the castle. Wait for them to become entwined with each other and too full of their betrayal to notice Daphne until the last moment. 

*****

"Shhhh! Draco, honestly!"

Granger's whisper was loud in the disused classroom, echoing faintly against the cobwebbed walls. Draco paid no attention as he closed and locked the door behind them, then pressed her against it. His murmur was indistinct and Daphne, hidden behind an old armoire, strained to hear his words. She may not have known what words of love he whispered into Granger's mouth, but their actions were unmistakable. She watched with a sense of disassociation as his blond head moved lower and the hem of Granger's robes higher, until the pale length of her bare legs was visible. She was laughing and pulling playfully at his hair, until he did something that made the laughter stop and the moans and whimpers start. 

Daphne's wand was slick with sweat as she raised her hand and stepped out from behind the armoire. Even in the dark room, she could see the fearful expression steal across Granger's face and she cried out something that was drowned out by the roaring, white noise in Daphne's head. In the green wash of light that illuminated every corner of the room, the last thing Daphne saw was the surprise on Draco's face.

*****

Daphne watched calmly from the top of the turret as, far below her vantage point, a shroud-draped body was borne away into the castle, followed by the tiny forms of the Headmaster and the professors. She drifted back into the old classroom and looked around at the now sun-dappled room. In her mind's eye, she could still see the acrid green glow of the _Avada Kedavra_ and the corresponding shower of red sparks of Draco's _Expelliarmus_. As he'd stalked towards her, kicking her wand towards Granger, who'd stooped and picked it up with an expression of dull shock on her face, Draco's rage filled the small room until Daphne had cowered before him. She'd hated herself for her weakness as she'd crawled to him, begged him to come back to her, to forgive her, to _love_ her. He'd only stared down at her, not with his former cruelty, but a pitying sadness that made Daphne ache with humiliation. 

Once more she tried to tell him, tell him how much she loved him, if only he'd open his eyes and _see_ , but he took Granger's hand in his and led her to the door and away from the once-beautiful girl wallowing on the floor in a puddle of tears and hate and _despair_.

"So, did it hurt much?"

Daphne turned and looked at the ghost of Moaning Myrtle. "Why are you up here? Don't you belong in the loo?" she said. Myrtle smiled and adjusted her glasses with one silvery finger.

"The others elected me to come and ask. So, did it? This is the highest tower at Hogwarts. Did it hurt when you hit the ground?"

Daphne turned away from the hovering ghost and looked out the window from which she'd flung herself, mere hours before. 

"No, not really."

~fin~


End file.
